


After The Mist We're Still Wailing

by Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Agnarr has depression, Agnarr is having a hard time being king, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Repressing Emotions, because he hasn't mourned properly, okay I think I can safely say it now, this is not tagged as a ship cause they're still babies, young Agnarr, young Iduna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart/pseuds/Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart
Summary: After young Agnarr returns to Arendell that faithful day in the forest, there's a grief too deep inside his chest he cannot begin to comprehend it. But there's no time to dwell on it, he's a king now and he must act as such.Still, he is drowning, he's drowning all the time.But there's someone out there who might just understand what this profound pain is doing to him."My name's Iduna."
Relationships: Agnarr & Iduna (Disney)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 9





	1. Drowning

DROWNING

The throne room is dark.

The curtains are drawn and the windows are closed. It could be light outside but Agnarr knows nothing of that; he has no thoughts to spare to the hour of the day nor what life is doing outside this darkness that he lives in now.

He sits on the golden throne, meant to be comfortable for long hours of hearings. And it used to be so, but now it feels of nothing, it doesn't even seem gold and glittering like all the other times he's looked at it.

In his hands he holds a crown too big for his head, it's gold too like the throne and it belongs to him though he doesn't want it. He holds it between slack fingers and shudders out a trembling breath, it reminds him of his father.

Agnarr's eyes fill with tears again. _Again_. How many more times can he cry? He's drowning, drowning on his own tears and he doesn't know how to stop. There's a pressure in his chest and it hasn't let him take a full breath since he woke up after… _after_.

How long has it been? Two days? Probably more. He was unconscious when he arrived at the castle. He was confused, and in pain, and alone. More than thirty warriors left, a couple of courtly men and a few servants; a king and a prince too. A father and a son. All those people and he had come back alone.

He chokes in his next breath, there's not enough air in this room, his steadily falling tears form twin rivers on his cheeks that are _drowning_ him.

Sometimes he doesn't know who he is, his grief is so heavy he can hardly tell. Has he ever existed outside this dark room? Has he been anything else but a tangled knot of pain and confusion? Maybe. He thinks maybe this room used to be golden in color, used to feel big and spacious instead of oppressing and crushing.

But this space of darkness, this little ball of unlit claustrophobic habitation is his cradle against the world. A world that is bright in the sun and fresh with the salty air the currents brought from the sea. A world he cannot stand to look at or else the colliding realities of outside and inside will make him collapse.

Agnarr tries to speak and it hurts, his throat is raw from crying too much, from not speaking enough. Just like enough oxygen won't go in for a full breath, air refuses to pass through to form sounds and meaning outside of his senseless crying. When he tries again he succeeds in a quiet manner.

He speaks to himself.

"I've seen dark before, but not like this." He whispers hoarse, his mint eyes vacant as he stares in to the nothingness of the room "This is cold, this is empty, this is _numb_." He cresses the bumps of the crown's design with the tips of his fingers. "This grief has a gravity… it pulls me _down_."

He tries taking in a breath, and again and again, but it's not working. If he doesn't breath soon he'll die, but it just _won't get in_. Until finally he chokes out a cry, and air rushes in painfully but he can _breath_ at last. But now his cries are too powerful to control, so he sobs; he sobs and tears and wails like a dying thing, because that's what he feels like. His heart is dying; it went away and fell off a cliff while he stared useless as it happened.

What is he now?

Motherless. _Fatherless_. Just a lonely little thing with nothing to tether itself to.

Now he can breathe, but everything has a price and with sufficient air comes an unstoppable amount of tears. _How is he still crying?_ He's been crying for two days now and he can't remember if he ever drank anything in that time or before.

He's filled with frustration as so many tears are now the cause of his breathlessness. He's drowning in them.

He's drowning.

He's _drowning_.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning

Drowning

 _Drowning_.

A door creeks open from the other side of the Throne Room and it leaves Agnarr momentarily blinded by the light. For a moment he can't comprehend the brightness that fills the room, can't process how his bubble of darkness could ever be penetrated by anything at all, can't understand how it's even possible for the day to still exist when he feels like all he's ever know is the night and the ever oppressing feeling of _drowning_ that refuses to let go of him.

" _Agnarr_." He looks up. He recognizes this voice, knows the face of this man that walks towards him and whose steps echo in the empty room. Jørgen, his father's right hand.

The anger that colors his name as it is said hardly registers or the wrathful demeanor that approaches the throne he's been sitting in for an eternity and a half.

" _Enough_. Stand up, boy." As Jørgen reaches him, he grabs at the thin arm of the blond and _pulls_.

Agnarr stumbles and the crown in his hands clatters onto the floor loudly. His legs feel weak and the only reason his knees don't hit the ground is the tight grip on his upper arm that keeps him standing.

"This has gone for long enough, you have to stop this in- are you listening to me? Agnarr-"

The man is speaking to him but he can hardly hear what is being said. His eyes are drawn to the light glittering off the crown from the open door. It's golden. It belonged to his father. _His father_ -

His face whips to the other side and his mind begins catching up with the stinging on his left cheek. His eyes fill with tears again, Jørgen had slapped him, _why_ had he done that?

" _Look_ at me." The man hisses.

Agnarr obeys shakily; chin trembling as he locks eyes with the other.

"This has to stop right now. You must conceal these _feelings_ Agnarr. Stop them and show them for nothing in the world. You are king now, a _king_. Do you understand that? People cannot see you like this, no one. Not the servants, not the townspeople, or the guards. What do you think the people will think if they see their king crumbled like a leaf? Hm? Neighboring kingdoms will be at your throat the second they sniff weakness on you. And your people? When they see how weak you are they'll never trust your rule, they'll fear for their future and their families. If you make one wrong move everyone will know and that'll be the end of Arendelle."

The eyes of Jørgen are fiery with emotion; Agnarr had never seen the man _so angry_ in his life. And the words make sense to him, they do, every little thing, but what comes out of his mouth is a completely different thing.

"I don't want to rule." Is the only thing he can bring himself to say.

"You don't have a choice." The man gives him a hard shake, it rattles his head and it makes him dizzy "You are the only one left in the bloodline, there's no one in your family left."

"I know." He whispers waveringly. He's known for two days now and it's been slowly killing him even though he can barely understand the concept, he _knows_ he's all alone now.

"You are not a child Agnarr, do you hear me? You're a king, a _king_ , and you must act as such. _Do you understand_?"

He can't take his eyes from the other, he's scared and alone and there's no one left but him. More than thirty warriors left, a couple of courtly men and a few servants; a king and a prince too, and now there's _no one left_ but _**him**_.

"Yes. I understand." He says, voice surprisingly steady for the wreck his throat's been going through.

"Good." Jørgen lets go of his arm at last, it hurts terribly but he can't feel it above everything else that's going on. "There is much too do. The people of Arendelle need to feel that they are safe in these uncertain times. They need you to be strong." He sounds composed now, less angry but still stern. He's always been stern.

"I'll be strong, I'll do everything I must," Agnarr says and feels the rising emotion in his chest again. A lonely tear falls but he rushes to wipe it away. He's not a child anymore and he better being to act like he knows that.

There's so much to be done. And he has to figure out how to lock away all of his emotions for this to work properly. Vanish them into nothingness, close the door and throw away the key.

He can't keep drowning as he is, there are people who need him, there are things to do and a kingdom to run. Is time to stop pretending that he can be a child when he's been king for two days now. Children cannot be kings.

Agnarr bends down to pick up the crown and follows Jørgen out of the dark throne room.

If he tries hard enough, eventually, he'll be able to take a breath and feel like he's not drowning, even when he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abril: Hello everyone! This idea had been swimming around my head probably since I saw the movie in theaters XD
> 
> Just fair warning, I'm… TERRIBLE at updating. Like, I already have the outline of the next 3 chapters and probably the second chapter is ¾ done already. But that means nothing in the grand scheme of things so don't expect too much from me I'm sorry ):  
> (Though if you pester me a lot I might be encouraged to work harder).
> 
> I made art of this story, if you'd like to check it out [Long Live The King](https://the-red-butterflies.tumblr.com/post/189984593099/long-live-the-king-king-agnarr-frozen-ll-i) I made it when I was first conceiving the idea for this story (:  
> And if you like my art I have a lot of Frozen things in there as well (and other stuff) [the-red-butterflies](https://the-red-butterflies.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to my lovely friend [Titanbreaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titanbreaker) for being my beta for this story :D may he always be inspired.


	2. Drifting

DRIFTING

Agnarr had been the perfect picture of composure and sophistication, he had used the right words and added his input when needed, never exaggerating his knowledge but making sure everyone knew he was all business.

It was good, the council was learning to accept that the _fourteen-year-old_ wasn't as out of his depth as they had expected and he was making every effort that he could possibly make to ask and study about all Arendellian topics of importance for ruling. The council and Agnarr were working out the new arrangement marvelously all things considered.

Then one of his advisors made a comment, one single, weightless comment, just something about old plans King Runeard had for the main square, just a simple reminder.

The bridge of his nose and the space between his eyes began prickling with a burning sensation. He'd breathed in and out, in and out as deeply as he could, but softly too so no one would notice. He felt the telltale of a tiny fraction of moisture filing the rim of his eyes and he forced himself to center his mind. He would not cry in front of all his respectable advisors, he was a _king_ , not a child.

The moment the meeting was over he walked calmly out of the room and explained to his page how he was feeling slightly tired and he would retire for half an hour to his quarters.

The second there was no one in sight, Agnarr _bolted_.

He ran out of the castle through a back door, out of the palace grounds, and across the bridge of the river, he ran as fast as his feet would carry him; away from prying eyes and the town's people and the small settlements in the outskirts. He ran into the woods until his burning lungs and muscles couldn't take him one step more.

Now that he's here, he's not quite sure _where_ here is.

It doesn't really matter, not a lot of things seem to matter as of late.

His chest hurts something mighty, he hadn't really been thinking about how much until he stopped running. He feels weightless again. Untethered to earth; that had been happening a lot as well.

He walks again, when his shaking legs stabilize a little, he walks and lets himself drift into the forest like a piece of wood at sea. Ribbons of light fall through the treetops and dot the forest floor in specks of shadows and radiance. But the little king is not interested. He just walks.

When he stumbles and falls on nothing at all, he's not very surprised, he only scoots towards the closest tree and leans back, letting out a heavy sigh.

Before he hadn't been thinking, but with nothing left to do his mind is now open wide for thoughts and ideas. It's his father's face that is the first thing that comes to him, his copper hair, and his sturdy features.

A breath stutters on its way in and the place between his eyes prickles again. He rubs at his face with force to make the feeling go, and it does, but it does not stop the water from pooling in his eyes.

" _No_!" Agnarr mumbles to himself as tears begin to fall. There's a pressure in his chest that he cannot let out for anything in the world, if he does he's never going to stop, his grief will never recede and he'll be lost forevermore inside the waves of it.

He knows what'll happen; he's already experienced it before, if only slightly. Three months ago his father had died and Agnarr had been _drowning_. He'd been lost to the world as the pain consumed him, and for a couple of days he'd forgotten his name, his life, and even the reason for his grief. The ache was constant and eternal and _frightening_.

He'd been drifting and it was _never_ going to stop until his very soul slipped from his body and it remained an empty thing.

Quiet tears fall and he shudders a quiet breath in; his father's brilliant blue eyes flash in his mind, his big warm hand rests on his shoulders a steady shield. And he chokes down a sob.

No, he could not allow himself to go there again, couldn't even grace the notion of letting down the tightly wound walls that held in his grief. Not for a second, for he would be lost again.

No, he could not do that again, he was a king and his people needed him to be steady. He was the last of a noble line of royal blood and he must endure above all things.

He breaths in and tries to level his wavering heart.

"Conceal it don't feel it." He reminds himself. "Don't let it show."

He breaths in and forces the air into his throbbing chest. He exhales and a tear rolls down his reddened cheek, he holds himself and the storm that has settled inside of him since he came back alone.

He is drowning, he is _always_ drowning but he can breathe better now and he's on his way of regaining his frail mask. But it's okay though… it's alright to drown so long as nobody knows that he is.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Agnarr _bolts_ upward like a startled rabbit and turns.

The soft voice has come from a peasant girl a few feet away. And she couldn't look more so than with her long locks down and in the wind, held back from her face only by a purple ribbon in her hair. She looked just shy of wild.

His cheeks are red and he can't stop looking at the girl. The heat of shame crawls up from his belly and settles nicely all over his face. Without thinking twice he turns his back to the peasant and begins walking away.

The blond hears hurried steps behind him and he quickens his pace just a little more. He walks, he _does not_ run because he's _not_ running away, because there's absolutely no reason _to be_ running away.

"Am- your- Majesty… right?" The girl asks uncertain of the term "Yes. Your Majesty?" she repeats more sure but Agnarr is concentrated on pretending this girl does not exist.

The girl looks around them, the forest dense with the gathering of many trees, and everything looks quite similar wherever she turns her gaze. There are no paths marked by men.

"I- Excuses me your… you Majesty?" She trots at his back, persistent, and he's almost scandalized by the thought of the girl _trotting_ to catch up with him. How very rude of him, how very unladylike of _her_.

"I mean no disrespect but… do you know your way?" The words sound hesitant in her mouth, like she's not used to them.

"Of course I do." He doesn't.

"Are you… heading to the palace?" She asks just a step or two behind him, his legs are longer so he keeps a subtle advantage, but she's _trotting_ and why is she asking him so many questions?

"Yes." He answers shortly.

There is a small tense silence between them, the noise of their scuttling in the forest is almost overwhelmingly loud.

"Your majesty, you are lost, this is not the way to the palace." The peasant girl finally says.

"I am not lost," Agnarr replies in what he recalls to be his fathers ' _you are overstepping_ ' voice, but figures it doesn't come out the way he wants because the stranger persists.

"Yo-your Majesty, _please_. I… I won't tell what I saw, I promise, but-"

The little king stops out of sheer reflex. He's as stiff as a board and doesn't know what to do.

"This really isn't the way." The auburn haired girl says softly with a shy and concerned smile.

"You must be mistaken; I was not crying." His voice is very proper and there's nothing in it that will give him away, but he knows his face must still be red and his dried tears marking treks down his cheeks.

"I… never said that." She hesitates, because that's precisely what she meant but she doesn't want to spook him away again. "But it would be okay if you were."

Agnarr looks up as if pleading with the barely visible sky though the leaves of the trees. He struggles to breathe normally but his eyes burn steadily; he can feel them coming. He takes small even breaths and forces them in and out as he hugs his arms to his middle as strongly as he can. He curls into himself a little and squeezes himself.

"What-what are you doing?" The peasant asks a little confused. She takes a few steps to the side so she can look at the profile of his face and not his shaking back.

"I'm attempting to control myself." He frowns "I _am_ controlling myself."

The girl feels terribly out of her depth.

"… why?"

" _Because I am a king_." He says for what feels like the millionth time. He would reason later, it's perhaps unfair to say it like that to this girl, after all, she's never heard the phrase once in her life. But it's just so tiring to remind himself of these things; it feels like it's the only thing he's been saying to anyone these past three months.

He doesn't feel like a child, but he definitely doesn't feel like a king either.

DRIFTING

Iduna looks at this boy, this king as he says, and she doesn't quite understand what he means, doesn't know what being a leader has anything to do with crying and it being something that shouldn't be done?

But she's still learning the ways of these new people, maybe Kings and Queens are terribly different from Chieftains and she hasn't yet grasped the why of it.

Still, she looks at him, this boy she almost knew in the forest, this boy who forgot her, his hunched form and his lonely hold of himself. Iduna looks at him and her heart goes out to him, the boy is crying, that much is clear, and all of a sudden her chest aches.

He reminds her so much of herself in her moments of grief.

Iduna doesn't think about her actions, but she is compelled to them either way, she steps closer to him and opens her arms wide in an inviting gesture, decided to comfort this soul who is so much like her own.

"No!" He shouts at her for the first time and she takes a startled step back as the boy scurries away from her in distress. His breathing exercises get more prominent; he seems almost jittery with bottled up energy.

The little king begins walking away from her again.

"No, wait! Don't go further away! You'll get lost I…" the blond stops "How about…" she tries coming up with a solution and when it comes to her she smiles tentatively "how about I go and walk away for a bit and I give you some time to…" _cry_ is in the tip of her tongue but if his previous reactions to her saying so were any indication, saying it now was not going to help the situation at all "To control yourself, as you say. You can tell me when you're ready and I'll guide you back to town." She attempts a friendly smile but is missed by the back that the boy is set on giving her.

Slowly the hands that tightly hold his middle untightens a fraction. He shifts his head slightly and Iduna can see the tip of his nose.

"That would be most gracious of you…" He says and there is a heavy pause then "I _am_ lost." Agnarr finally admits.

"That's okay." She says gently, her smile more genuine now "I'll… I'll be going now." She begins walking backwards, her hands behind her back in a slightly nervous gesture "Call for me when… when you're done. Yes?"

"I will." He nods.

"But please don't go away again? I really don't want you to be lost in the woods." She insists, because she _really doesn't_ want that.

"I will not. I promise." He reassures softly.

"Okay… good." She turns on her feet and walks away, disappearing between the greenery.

It's okay if he gets lost though, Iduna can find him, she's good at that sort of thing. Once you call a forest a home then any other forest can be just as welcoming. She can find him in the woods if he lost himself again.


	3. I Am Not Lost I Am Found

I AM NOT LOST I AM FOUND

As the peasant girl disappears between the trees, Agnarr lets out a heavy breath. There is a terrible hurting inside his chest and it pushes forward the burning in his eyes with every throb. He keeps breathing in and out; in and out in a harsh controlled manner until the burning dissipates and he doesn't feel like his heart wants to jump out of his mouth anymore.

He lets go of his middle and takes a deep breath, it feels almost releasing but not quite. Since he became king, there has always been a tightly bound knot inside of his chest. He thought it might fade in time but with how things are now he imagines it will never really go away.

Agnarr's face is a bit wet. He hadn't managed to contain all of his wretched tears and how embarrassing was that? Crying like a babe in front of that girl, what would she think of him, about what a poor king he makes? He doesn't want to know, the thought is too terrible and painful to entertain.

He cleans his cheeks and the corner of his eyes, fanning his face a bit until he feels as normal as he can possibly feel these days. He suspects his face will continue to be as red as can be and there's not much he can do about that.

He's so weak, why can't he do better? He wants to be better for his father, for the memory of him, for the people of Arendelle. But he's _so very_ shamefully weak.

The thought makes a new wave of heat travel through his frame and his eyes prickle again.

" _Blame_." He chokes quietly and all but swallows the sob, palms on his eyes as he begins to breathe in and out, in and out.

"You do not feel a thing." He whispers to himself "You are calm. You are collected. There is nothing wrong." He shifts one of his palms to his ear and after a hesitant moment he sinks his thumb and index nails into the soft flesh of his lobe.

He gasps quietly in surprise but the action does its job and his depressing thoughts shift away a little faster.

"There is nothing wrong." He says again, and this time, his voice is normal and neutral as the last traces of his ever present pain fade to the back of his mind like the waves splashing against the shore, always there but forgettable none the less.

He breaths in and its unobstructed air that fills his lungs. He could almost smile at this but he doesn't, smiling feels like something from the distant past.

"Miss! I am ready." He announces in a loud and stoic voice. _Just like father_. He thinks ruefully but shoves the thought aside before his eyes get any more funny ideas.

A dark mop of reddish curly hair peeks out from several trees away and approaches him. Before she can open her mouth Agnarr hurries to speak.

"I apologize for my behavior, it was unbecoming and… quite rude of me." He adds almost quietly.

"It's really no trouble at all." She says honestly, but was still confused. His eyes are swollen red and the flush on his cheeks are all in all very telling, but he looks composed, and yes, very in control of himself indeed.

"Well," she begins after an awkward moment of silence "shall we then?" she gestures to the woods, and they do really look all the same to him, but he trusts that this stranger knows her way with how confident she seems about it.

That was a very admirable quality to have, confidence. It would be nice if he could have more of his own.

Agnarr nods at her and she begins walking, the little king follows behind.

I AM NOT LOST I AM FOUND

Before, when she lived in the forest, she would've grabbed his hand to lead him and she would've talked all the way to the palace animatedly. Now she knows one does not touch royalty unless allowed too and with no room for misinterpretation. Arendell's rules seem so nonsensical to her, but she's adapted as best as she can, she doesn't want to get in trouble, much less the kindly couple who have taken her in.

The thought of Anna and Andersen almost brings a smile to her face.

The blond takes a few longer steps until he's walking besides her, he stands tall but his face is cast downwards.

"I've behaved so terribly since we met." He excuses himself, shy about his actions.

Iduna doesn't think so, in the short time she had known him in the enchanted forest, he'd been nothing but sweet and nice to her, but she can't tell him that.

"What is your name? If I might ask." He ventures.

For a moment, she hesitates. She's still not sure how telling her name is to others, how much of her otherness it gives away. In the end she succumbs, she doesn't think she could answer anything else.

"Iduna." She tells him with her eyes down. "My name's Iduna."

"Iduna." He repeats. There's a little frown of thought on his brow. "That is quite a peculiar name."

She curses herself silently; she should've lied or avoided the question or _something_.

"My name is Agnarr." He tells her as he pays no more mind to the slight slip, he doesn't really seem to have noticed it at all.

Iduna giggles behind her hand. She knows that she shouldn't laugh at royalty but she cannot help it.

"I know your name." She says simply "You _are_ the king of this land." when she looks up at him her smile falls a little.

"I guess I am." He says quietly, his eyes shadowed by something familiar to her.

The conversation fades away as they silently trail through the woods.

It's nice, in a way, though she would've preferred it if they had continued talking. It had almost been easy, talking with him, maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered when they had met before, like a half remembered dream or feeling.

She rolls her eyes to herself, it was better this way, no one knew her, no one could connect her to the old forest or anything that had happened there.

She was nobody now… nothing at all but a wisp of a girl amid torrents of peoples and sounds and things that were not at all like her.

Her heart aches for a moment.

"Are you of a woodsmen family by any chance?" He asks out of the blue and her heart rattles in her chest, _was he remembering?_ "You seem to know your way through the forest quite well." The blond compliments.

"Oh… no." That felt like lying, in a way, all of her people were woodsmen if you thought about it like that, their home was the forest, their houses the woods "I just… like wandering about here, that's all."

"Oh." He says, looking at her with a little wonder filed expression "That sounds lovely." He says genuinely, it makes her smile.

"I live with the baker and his wife… who is also a baker." She adds after a moment of doubtful thought.

The blond looks at her funnily.

"Sorry." Iduna scoffs "It's just… everyone calls Anna the baker's wife even though she also makes the bread. So why not just call her the baker too? Or the bakers?" she wonders out loud.

"Why indeed." The blond says but he seems to be giving thought to their words. "Maybe you should start calling her that around other people? They might change the way they see her." He suggests.

Iduna looks at him, eyes full of surprise, she's a little pleased as well.

"Maybe I will… change things, I mean."

"I've no doubt; you seem like a very confident girl." He tells her.

She strengthens her back and looks forward, there's a tiny smirk on her face.

"I am."

They lapse into another silence, but it's lighter, brighter than before, though not less somber. There is something sad about walking besides the little King that Iduna is very aware of. It something very familiar to her.

"So, why were you all the way out here, your majesty?" She asks "I didn't… think you got out of the castle much." Her words become a little bit less sure, because she had a decent guess as to the _why_ , but she had asked because she wanted to keep talking with him.

Maybe she shouldn't've said anything.

"I… needed some air." The blond tells her grimly; she suspects as honest as he dares to be. "Oh."

Iduna looks up at his soft expression, they've reached the limits of the forest, from here, the castle is still far away but plainly visible.

"You are very good at this." He exhales and turns to her "Thank you very much, Miss." He gives her a little bow "And again, please forgive me behavior, it was unacceptable of me to treat a lady like that."

She wants to tell him it's okay, that she understands and doesn't mind at all, but she can tell, her words would not be welcome.

"Apology accepted." She says instead, softly, blue eyes sincere. "I guess we should be parting ways?" she asks out loud, the town and the palace have different roads and it seems the most sensible course of action.

"Yes, indeed. Thank you. It was very kind of you."

"Much obliged." Iduna replies, as she's heard Andersen say, and adds a curtsy to boot. Anna would be proud of her.

She begins to walk away, taking her own path to the left.

"Oh!" She turns at his voice, he's taken a step towards her, as if he intended to stop her.

"It was very nice… talking with you." He says a little awkwardly.

"It was very nice talking to you too." Her smile is bright as she speaks, this feels almost familiar, like back in the Enchanted Forest. They had played there, when they were in the forest, they had been very nearly friends. And he'd been much joyful back then of course.

"I'd love to talk again sometime." The words escape her mouth so suddenly she cannot believe herself. She should be doing everything possible to not encounter the king again but… he was _there_ with her, and he _is_ nice to be with.

"That'd be lovely." There's a ghost of a smile in the corner of his lips.

"Good." Iduna says.

"Goodbye Miss," He replies, taking a few steps back.

"Iduna." She rushes to say and the blond stops for a moment.

"Miss Iduna." He nods.

They part ways, each to their own abode, Iduna notices, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Agnarr's eyes were a little less shadowed than before. Maybe it was just a trick of the light thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abril: So I was doing some research and, so it seems, in the 1840 “Blame” was used as people today use “Damn”. Very interesting, I hope I used it accurately enough hehe.
> 
> Also, a little shout out to the [WAIL](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571230) series by [Fericita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita) and [TheSpasticFantastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpasticFantastic/pseuds/TheSpasticFantastic), because I got the hurting-oneself-for-consecrating idea from them. I don’t remember which story specifically though. It’s a wonderful series though, go check it out.


	4. Tentatively We Go

TENTATIVELY WE GO

When Agnarr had agreed that meeting with Miss. Iduna again would be nice, he had not taken some facts into consideration. "The Bakery" is too vague a description of where to find her, how many bakeries did Arendelle have? It is not a terribly big place, having more than two bakeries seemed a bit excessive. But maybe there where? Everyone likes variety, and that must include bread, cakes, and other baked goods. For all he knew there could be seven different bakeries that offered all sorts of different things for whichever need or occasion arrived.

Somehow he doubts it would be acceptable behavior for him to wander around Arendelle looking for something of a nonspecific nature. Jørgen would never allow such idle plans to be made, and Agnarr is not going to admit his real intentions under any circumstances. So there is that.

Agnarr has too many responsibilities to allow himself more time to think on the matter, so sadly, he lets it go. For a moment, he thought it would be nice, having a… friend, or maybe something similar to it. Kings were not to indulge themselves in trivial friendships. A fact that was becoming quite apparent to him.

Life goes on and things are much the same, with Agnarr learning and adapting and going to and fro as he catches up with his kingly duties. His busy schedule allows him the beautiful fact that he has no time to think of anything else but his work. Being busy keeps his head barely above water, he is always drowning, it is quite impossible to forget, but he doesn't have much time to think about it, which is _absolutely beautiful_ and suits him just fine.

Everything is fine, everything is always fine, and if isn't, he is going to _make it so_.

Agnarr walks down the streets of the town alongside one of his advisors. The man is explaining to him what roads need fixing and what it would entail to do so and how much it would cost and where the materials could come from.

The blond is paying the older gentlemen all the attention he can bare but he still can't help it when from time to time his attention drifts from his aid's words. He is trying, but his advisor has a way of speaking that is very akin to a lull and not helpful at all when one needs to concentrate.

"We must keep to the old designs of the streets, your Majesty, I know there are counterarguments to be made for the use of newer styles but it is imperative to consider the importance of preserving Arendelle's architectural history-"

Agnarr's attention drifts away again and before he can get his mind back to the conversation his eyes catch sight of a wild set of wavy locks of auburn hair that are only half tied by a purple ribbon in a very unladylike fashion.

_Iduna._

"That is all very interesting good sir and you have given me much to think about." Agnarr takes the opportunity in the next intake of breath of his advisor to intercede. "I will give it much thought and call on you when I've come to a conclusion."

The grandfatherly man looks quite startled to be interrupted but concedes after a moment.

"Of course, your Majesty." He gives the little king a respectful bow.

"If you could provide me with a worker or two who are knowledgeable about such matters I would greatly appreciate it as well, I would like to consult them on the matter of new road styles and the ones we have in use, and perhaps come to some sort of compromise." He adds, his hurry to get away from the conversation should not in any way interfere with his actual duties as king.

"That is a very fine course of action, my king." Replies his advisor, for a moment, the blond thinks he can see something akin to pride in the eyes of the other.

"If you'll excuse me." Agnarr bows slightly and turns to walk away, quick to reach the street corner where he saw the wild hair disappear behind. His heart races a little in his chest, he does not wish to have missed Miss. iduna by a few mere seconds.

When he passes the corner a quite sigh of relief leaves his lungs. There she is.

Iduna is standing outside a window display with an empty basket resting on her hip. In her other hand there is a broom with which she's trying to shoo away a pigeon that sits on the swinging sign atop of the door. _Little Well Bakery._ It reads.

As the bird flies away, the girl walks into the store.

With just a step forward, Agnarr stops. This might not be the best of ideas; he really doesn't have the time to be socializing with those outside of his duties, and the rest of the foreign royalty that comes visiting, vultures more like, were on the constant lookout for any weaknesses he might display.

Jørgen had been right in that regard, he can see clearly through their facades, they want him to fail, they want to see him stumble so they can do… something. He's not sure how they can take advantage of something like that, but he has no doubt they could.

So this, whatever it is he is looking for here, is not a good idea. And anyway, she's a peasant; it is less than ideal for him to be looking out for the strange girl. His features become sour and his shoulders slump. It is better this way. _And anyway_ , he is probably poor company outside of official matters, his general demeanor will not be screaming to anyone ' _good times_ ' anytime soon.

So he turns, he better get back soon, his guards is are probably looking for him.

TENTATIVELY WE GO

Iduna carries the newly filled basket of bread and pastries in her arms and smiles at Anna.

"Did you get that?" She asks again, eyes narrowing as she watches the child's face, on the lookout for any signs of little lies Iduna might give to her. "You're not going to get lost?"

Almost four months with her and still she was worried that the streets of Arendelle will get the girl confused.

"I remember, don't worry." Iduna walks out of the bakery and just as she's closing the door she notices a very familiar mop of light blond hair walking down the street.

Her eyes brighten with recognition and excitement; those are _definitely_ not the clothes any of the townspeople would be wearing. She holds the woven basket safely against her chest and runs down the cobbled stones.

" _Agna_ \- Your Majesty! Your Majesty, wait up!" She shouts with a happy lilt.

The boy whips back around and stares at her with big mint eyes.

"Miss Iduna." He bows lightly and though he doesn't smile, his own eyes light a little.

"I… hello." The girl says once she abruptly stops. She didn't really have a plan of what she'd say once she caught up with him, so the silence afterwards is a somewhat awkward but not precisely bad thing.

"You do… an awful lot of running." The little king says.

She blushes a bit but giggles under her hand.

"Yeah, I've noticed not a lot of girls do that here."

"Oh, I wasn't aware you were not from Arendelle." He comments curious.

"Ahm, yeah," Iduna looks away and quickly changes the subject "I thought I might not see you again after the last time we met! What with your Majesty always being inside the castle and all."

"I…" He hesitates for a moment, but answers her truthfully. "My thoughts went somewhere similar I must confess, I did not exactly know where to find you in town."

"Lucky us then!" Her happy, and loud, exclamation seems to leave him a little dazzled. "What are you doing in town, your Majesty? Don't get me wrong" she hurries to say "I'm glad we got to talk again but… I don't believe it's very common to see you out of the palace I mean."

"I came to look at the streets. There seem to be some reparations to take care off." He answers, hands held behind his perfectly straight back.

They must look an odd sight to anyone passing, vastly differently in all the ways that count.

Iduna looks down at the cobblestone road beneath their feet "They seem quite fine to me."

It is a small sound really, but the quiet snort that escapes Agnarr's mouth does _not_ go unnoticed. The boy covers his mouth fast as lightning as Iduna looks up with surprise.

"I'm terribly sorry." He is quick to say.

"So you _can_ laugh." She accuses, ridiculously pleased.

And wasn't that a wonderful notion?

"Yes… it would seem that I can after all."

He looks surprised at himself, like he can't quite think it possible. But then, as if overcome by something greater, the brief glimpse of joy banishes from his features. The shadow that follows him everywhere he goes crawls and settles in his eyes again.

The little king tries to keep his features composed though; Iduna can tell how he braces himself, as if willing his emotions to stop, to stay hidden.

The connection between them breaks after that and the blond takes a subtle step back.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to keep you from your work." He nods at the basket in her arms.

"Oh, right!" The girl remembers she does actually have work to do, but she doesn't move, she doesn't want too "I'm not in a lot of hurry though."

Agnarr's eyes widen a little, there's a hint of something in her words, an invitation of some kind. Iduna dares to hope, he doesn't seem inclined to refuse.

" _King Agnarr!_ " They hear the distant shout of a voice " _Your Majesty!"_

"I must go, I…" He looks almost shyly at her "It's a shame we couldn't talk more. It would have been… nice."

"Well, you know where to find me now." Iduna says with a hopeful smile.

"I probably shouldn't…" He looks down and her smile slips. Of course, royalty, _right_.

She has to remind herself of these things, he's not just a boy she can play with anymore, he's a king, as he likes to say. It was a nice idea thought, while it lasted.

But the blond hasn't moved from his place.

"I…" His mint green eyes are on her basket again "Miss I would like to purchase some bread from you."

The auburn haired girl startles a little at the change of topic.

"I assume you make most of the deliveries of the bakery, yes?" He inquires.

"Most of the time yes." She bobs her head, still unsure of the conversation.

"I'm not sure what you sell but…"

" _King Agnar!_ " The shout sounds closer.

"Bring me three of your most delicious pastries tomorrow; you'll be fairly compensated at the palace." He says hurriedly as she begins catching on to his idea. "If you go very early I am sure I could be there for a bit."

An invitation again, one she is quite eager to accept.

"I'll be there then." Iduna grins as the little king begins retreating. "With your request of course."

"Of course," he says back at her, his eyes lighting a little again "Goodbye Miss. Iduna."

"Goodbye, your Majesty." He's already long gone, but her smile stays long after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abril: if Iduna could stop making my sad story a happy one it would be much appreciated. Like, I'm trying to write some depression here people! How rude…
> 
> Also, if Mattias knew about Agnarr's guards not noticing the little tyke leaving he'd be furious haha.
> 
> Mattias: I was ONE guard and I NEVER once lost sight of him. You are MULTIPLE guards and you can't keep your eyes on ONE depressed child?!


	5. Mornings By The Sea

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

When Iduna tells Anna and Andersen about the odd request for bread from _the_ _ **King**_ _himself_ they look at her with doubt. She's afraid for a moment, that they will not believe her and will not allow her to go.

"Well, if you're sure…" Anna says a little concerned, but the girl has never given her reason to distrust her or believe her to get into trouble on purpose.

"I am." She assures them with confidence "He told me I'd get the payment when I delivered his order."

The couple share a look, but Andersen finally nods.

"Alright then. We can't very well deny our own king now, can we?"

Iduna grins, it feels like things going her way and she's all about that.

The morning is cold when she walks to the palace. Iduna has wrapped a shall around herself -not her own of course, for fear of someone noticing it's otherness- but a faded yellow one that Anna gave her, it's warm and soft even if it doesn't take away the chill on its entirety.

Her caretakers had been very specific about how to get to the palace and how she is to greet any nobles if she crossed them. They worried for her so much, that her rowdy and different nature would get her in trouble, even if by accident. Iduna had listened attentively, the last thing she wanted was to attract attention to herself, but still she was here. If she was that worried, she would've accepted Anna's multiple offers to take the pastries herself.

The thing is, she _is_ worried, she's constantly in a state of worry, but she's also _very_ desperate for friendship, for the sight of something familiar, something that says home. There is nothing like that unfortunately, but there _is_ one boy who used to be her friend once upon a time, a boy who, knowingly or not, had seen the trees that sheltered her and walked the land that had mothered her. He was a little bit of home in a way, a very diluted, very small bit of home.

She becomes unsure the closer she gets to the back of the palace where the kitchens are located, what is she even doing here? This is so far from her plans of not attracting attention from anyone, much less from this boy who is the king of the people who battled her own.

Her heart pangs with pain, and her spirits dwindle a little, a familiar sadness settles in her like an old friend. Iduna takes in a breath of fresh air, holds in her mind the warm memory of her home and family, and sighs, letting the feeling dissipate slightly. Everything will be fine.

Her mind goes to distant forests full of magical life, to cozy huts, late night stories by the fire and arms that hold her lovingly at night. It pains her but it comforts her just as much.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

It is somewhat strange to be in the kitchens again, he used to come here all the time _before_. Most of the cooks liked him, and even the one who didn't had mostly just pretended to be cross with him because he'd been ' _underfoot all the time_ '. Agnarr doesn't go there anymore, it isn't very kingly of him.

That morning as soon as he sets foot in the kitchens, everything goes quiet.

"Please, do not mind me." He tries to sound sure of himself, but he can't. He lowers his head and doesn't look at the mix off cooks, servants and kitchen staff. Somehow, his absence from the kitchens feels like some kind of betrayal, but he doesn't know why.

"Of course, your Majesty." Agrees the head cook with a slight bow as she turns to everyone else. "Come now people, back to work." And so they do.

Agnarr approaches the small desk belonging to the head of the kitchens, whose role is to supervise the expenditures, the castles food supplies and the meals for everyone. He is quiet in manner and always keeps to himself in his small corner of the kitchens where he won't be a bother to anyone. Despite his paramount position everyone knows who's really in charge though; it's the head cook and no one's going to dispute that.

"Good morning." The little King says with a nod.

"Your Majesty." The man stands and bows respectfully.

"A girl will arrive soon with some pastries I've ordered, please be sure to pay her what she asks for them and a little more for her troubles for coming to the castle." He explains.

"Of-of course." The man answers a little puzzled. He sits down after a moment of awkward silence between them.

The clanking of pots and pans and spoons fills the warm air of the kitchens, it's nice, it's as nice as it's always been. It's one of the reasons that he had liked to spend time here before.

"May I?" Agnarr inquires, gesturing to the small stool beside the desk of the head of the kitchens.

"Of course." The man nods repeatedly, apparently still out of sorts about the whole situation.

They sit quietly and mind each their own business, letting the minutes roll pass them. Agnarr entertains himself by watching the cooks, maids and general staff attend to their work, at ease in their well-practiced rolls.

A fast rap sounds at the wooden back door of the kitchens. The little king's head shoots up while a maid dries her hands and attends the new comer.

"Gooday!" Chirps a familiar voice "I come with an order for the king from the Little Well Bakery?"

The kitchen's head stands from his place and gently turns the maid away then looks down at the wild auburn headed girl, a few of her locks only held back from her face by a purple ribbon.

"Good day, little miss." He greets quietly, his eyes blinking a few times at the second puzzling occurrence of the day "I _was_ told of your delivery; how much will it be?"

While they settle the affairs of money Agnarr stands up and lingers uncomfortably on the other side of the door where he cannot be seen, waiting for the conversation to finish so that he can step out. He feels ridiculous, this whole situation is ridiculous and he regrets it from the bottom of his heart. He feels like all the servants are gawking at his awkward little self and it's then he begins feeling a familiar heat climbing up to his face.

Though if the servants gawk they do it in a most discreet way, they are after all, master spectators of upper-class disasters and fumbling's. He hopes they won't talk _too_ much about it.

The head of the kitchens backs away to his small table just in time for Agnarr to catch an unsure look on Iduna's face. She catches his mint eyes as he approaches and her own eyes widen with joy but she says nothing, which he appreciates as he would a miracle. For a moment, he had expected that being her rowdy self she would've shouted a greeting at him.

The blond steps out of the kitchens without looking back and closes the door softly. Iduna is now grinning at him. And Agnarr looks at her, _really_ looks at her, at her sunny disposition and open face, and very slowly, attempts the tiniest of smiles back.

It's like looking directly at the sun when the girl grins even wider.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

They settle on a routine, she and him, peasant and king. Once a week Iduna brings bread or pastries to the palace and once a week a misplaced little king is always there early in the morning to step outside for a half an hour or so before he has to run off to attend to his duties or show up for breakfast before anyone starts asking questions.

The head of the kitchens, catching on rather quickly, begins sending orders to Little Well's bakery every week, clamming to having found the consistency of their buns rather pleasing and a little better than the ones made in their own kitchens. It almost costs him a concussion by ladle from the head cook but is saved by the fact that the bakery did have in fact, very good buns.

And once every week Agnarr and Iduna sit down at the back of the kitchens, close to the sea and they talk of little, unimportant things. They discuss the color of the sky, the chill carried on by the wind, Iduna's new dress that she's learning to sow with Anna's carful instruction and Agnarr's continuous consumption of information on the kingdom. It is nice mostly. It's _very_ nice.

Iduna though, soon begins to realize it isn't always as nice as she would wish. Her friend -dare she call him that I front of anyone? - is very hurt, he is always, constantly, in a state of hurting which does not pass the barrier of his eyes. He doesn't smile, even though sometimes he tries for her sake, she smiles quite a lot for the both of them though.

She misses his smile either way; he had the most loveliest of laughs.

Some days he seems okay, almost normal, but only in that somber way of his; other days he looks bad, like he struggles to act like there isn't something begging to burst out of him and crush him on the way out. And though it's nothing like how they were back at the forest, he never fails to show up and his company sooths her own aching soul like the leaves of familiar trees that she hasn't seen in four months.

His grief though, is not like her own, she can't quite put her finger on why that might be so, but she knows it is. It follows him like a deep black shadow despite the King's best efforts to appear unconcerned.

Shadow or not, Iduna and Agnarr meet once a week, and it's nice. It's _so very_ nice.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

Agnarr sits quietly on the stool, after a couple of weeks the kitchen staff has once again grown used to having him there, even if it's only in a quiet and non-obtrusive manner.

Kare, a young maid of nineteen or twenty who used to humor him a lot before, walks to him timidly, she hasn't yet talked to him since he came back so he gives her all of his attention.

"Would his Majesty like to try?" She offers him an old wooden cup of something steaming, as he leans in he smells a dulcet, rich scent that tugs at his memory. _Sweet soup_ he thinks at the same time Kare says it to him.

He nods and thanks her, holds the warm cup between his hands like it's something precious as the blonde maid scurries away before she gets scolded by the head cook.

It's very sweet of her he thinks, even after he disappeared for months on end, to offer him her cooking once more. He sips little by little until Iduna arrives and they both brisk away to enjoy the little amount of time they have to spend together.

"So, what does his Majesty think?" Iduna ask as he sits on a rock, close to the lapping waves. By now the title almost sounds like a friendly nickname with the way she says it.

Agnarr looks at her as she spins, showing off her newly finished dress; the fabric is a soft pink almost lilac in tint. He takes the question seriously and inspects the work, even if he's no expert on the topic and has no fine eye on such matters.

It looks all in all, like a dress, which in his opinion means she did a darn good job if he can't tell the difference between what he usually sees and what a beginners' work looks like.

"I believe you did a very fine job Miss Iduna." He says with an appreciative nod.

"Be honest." She frowns and lets her arms drop, convinced he's humoring her.

"I am." He says with his chin raised up in his "official" voice, which makes her smile "I think I saw a couple of loose treads on the back of your right arm, but this _is_ your first finished dress. As far as I am concerned you did an excellent job."

The girl grins and gives a little jump for herself, making her wild, half tied hair rustle a little in the air with the motion.

"And it suits you quite fine too." He adds, because he does think so.

"Why thank you your Majesty, you flatter me." She says funnily, grabbing the edge of her dress and bowing as low as she can.

She laughs, and Agnarr huffs a little as well. More than an okay day, with that little sound it's just about a good day in Iduna's books.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

Iduna shivers a little and wraps her yellow shawl tighter around herself; the days are getting shorter and colder as fall creeps closer to winter. That day they don't say much but the company is still appreciated.

"You should visit the bakery one day, if your have business around town that is." She says looking at the blue calm waves between the rocks of the fjord.

His face is drawn down but he listens to her, he always listens to what she has to say, even if it's dumb, even if it's unimportant. She wishes she could tell him so much more than inconsequential things. Iduna has stories in her heart that have traveled generations down until they reached her, she feels King Agnarr would like them but she can never tell them to him.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says quietly. "I… would like to meet Anna and Andersen one day. They sound like lovely people."

She smiles at him, she _would_ like that too.

It's an okay day all in all.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

When Agnarr comes out from the kitchens she grins and waves at him, her empty basket clutched to her chest, bread safely delivered. He nods in acknowledgment and her heart throbs a bit in concern, she can tell today is a bad day.

They walk along the grass of the shore and he tells her about fairy rings, hill gnomes that hide away when you get too close, and trolls of frightening power that live in the mountains lying in wait to do the biding of Arendelle's royal bloodline. His shadow follows them around and King Agnarr doesn't drag his feet, _he would never_ , but it's a near thing, like the simple act of walking has become quite a challenge. At least that's how it seems to Iduna. She never comments about his bad days, she doesn't know what she could possibly say anyway, not after how he reacted when she first found him in Arendelle's near forest.

So they walk and talk about fairies and gnomes and water spirits that lure you into the lakes and drag you down to drown.

She pretends the grief she feels in the air is not as heavy as it really is and wonders if that's what he does every day. Look away from the hurt and make believe it doesn't color every other aspect of his life.

She pretends she doesn't think about that either.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

Agnarr greets his wild haired… friend? Yes, that's quite right. He had thought maybe it was not possible, having friends when one is king, but as the weeks pass he begins feeling like maybe it is.

It's a soothing thought, it alleviates somewhat the pressure in his chest, makes his drowning not so present. He attempts another, little smile and gladdens at how fast his attempts make Iduna grin.

"Here," he offers her a cup of something warm and sweet as he sips his own wooden cup. Kare had given it to him with a smile and said ' _For you and the little miss._ ' which he had thanked her profusely for.

"Oh." The no-longer-strange-girl exclaims in surprise when she drinks without questioning the offered cup. She then proceeds to make a mortifying moan of pleasure once the taste settles in and she drinks again.

The blond is horrified at the new levels of indecency Miss Iduna seems capable of reaching and looks around and back at the kitchens door mortified someone might've heard.

"This is amazing!" She says engrossed by her drink, "What _is_ it?"

"Sweet soup," he says simply, sipping at his own cup though still wary of anyone who might pop up after that outrageous sound was made "It a bit of a dessert."

"This is my new favorite thing." Iduna declares as she drops on the grass besides the rock the blond sits in.

"The grass is damp." He comments as he frowns at the floor.

"It's okay." She assures him.

"And I thought Skolebrød was your favorite." He adds, raising an eyebrow at how easily enchanted she is.

"… Alight, it's my second favorite thing. I don't think anything can top Skolebrød." Iduna says and the little king wonders if she's thinking of having some of those once she gets back home to the bakery –if Anna lets her get away with it. He doesn't know a lot of people with a sweet tooth as Iduna.

Today's an okay day, and those are pretty nice most of the time.

MORNINGS BY THE SEA

When Iduna arrives and is paid for the order of the day she's puzzled when she doesn't see Agnarr sitting by the small table on the stool.

"His Majesty went out already," comments the man on the table as he takes note of the exchanged money in his books without looking up.

"Oh, thank you." She bows swiftly before going out.

She spots him, sitting by some rocks close to the shore with his back to her, looking at the water and the passing seagulls. Iduna sprints towards him with a smile.

"Gooday your Majesty." She greats happily and finds another rock to sit on. She lifts her head though, when she's not greeted back.

The blond doesn't look at her; he barely acknowledges her presence as he keeps his eyes on the sea.

"Sire?" She asks a little unsure, but he does not say anything.

His eyes seem glassy and dull, he looks like a doll propped up and left. Something's wrong.

"Are… you okay?" Iduna asks worriedly.

After a moment of silence he turns to her and breaths in.

"I am okay. Everything is fine Miss Iduna, do not worry."

The next breath she takes in feels a little irregular, she doesn't know what's wrong, but something feels terribly amiss.

Iduna is about to learn that not only are there okay days and bad days. Oh no, she is about to learn that there are also very, _very_ bad days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abril: I'll be honest guys, sometimes I feel like I'm writing 2 different stories. Can anyone tell me if the narration seems organic? Does anything stand out in a way it shouldn't?
> 
> Anywho, Agnarr looking at the sea and the seagulls reminds me so much of Tolkien's lore about his elves and the deep grief they feel, and when that grief hits them they hear the call of the birds and yearn to go to the sea. So this feels very ad hoc I should say.
> 
> Now! Who's ready for some aaaannnnggggssssttttt?  
> I am.  
> :D


	6. Clouds On The Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Exploration of depression.

Opening his eyes feels like a herculean effort. He tries to drag his lids up but he can't, they weigh down like lead and… He opens them, his room is dark, it's normal, the curtains are always drawn at this time of the morning.

Agnarr curls to his side in an effort to sit up but he doesn't do it. He stares into the darkness of his room and does… nothing. He does nothing even though it feels like he's trying his very hardest to sit up. When he gets to lean on his elbows he sways a little, he feels tired but there's no real reason why; he always sleeps as much as he should and eats as much as he can of what the cooks serve him -it is only polite even if he finds it very hard to finish half of his food on regular days.

A couple of seconds later he lets himself fall back down onto the comfort of his bed. It's too much effort, he decides, he can get out of bed once the manservant comes to his room. It's almost never necessary; he's pretty good about waking up on his own and getting ready without help. He figures though… there's no trouble in sleeping in once in a while.

Agnarr closes his eyes. He's tried.

CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON

Today he's meeting Miss Iduna, which means he has to get up earlier than usual and its one of _those_ days. He's been having trouble getting up as of late, but it's never _too_ bad; some way or another he always manages to push himself into wakefulness and out of bed.

He keeps still beneath the covers for another couple of minutes and is tempted, _very_ darn tempted to simply close his eyes and wait until later for the manservant to realize that it is late enough and come wake him up.

He always feels a little nice when he thinks of meeting the girl; he always looks forward to it. But he doesn't really want to see her today, he really, _really_ doesn't. It's not like anything will happen if he doesn't show up _one_ day. Nothing bad will happen if he leaves her all on her own without explanation…

Nothing would happen but it _would_ be incredibly rude and she'd probably be hurt and… he doesn't want to hurt her. They are… friends, he thinks.

Agnarr sighs dejectedly and pulls himself up; once he's sitting he feels like the effort to do that little task was enough to bring him to tears. As that thought crosses his mind he sinks the nails of his hand into the palm of his hand until it really hurts and the sharp sting of the action wakes him enough to get out of bed.

When he gets to the kitchens he doesn't look at anyone and finds their presence overwhelming instead of soothing, he goes out to the back of the palace and sits by the sea until the dark redheaded girl arrives.

Miss Iduna asks him what's wrong. There's really nothing wrong so he tells her that.

The feeling of drowning is something usual of his day to day life, so it's only natural when he doesn't realize what he's feeling now is more than he's always felt. It feels like being far below water more than clumsily swimming to catch occasional gulps at the surface.

He's not drowning; something is dragging him down into the darkness. Agnarr can't tell though, it's too a normal feeling to tell apart.

CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON

Agnarr sits in his study and works. The room is his own, made for him when he became king because he can't bear the thought of working in his father's office, it gives his heart pause and the mere idea of working there robs him of breath.

Jørgen agrees with him, it's only reasonable for him to have his own space and start anew on his regency. It has nothing to do with the fact that the sight of the doors to his father's office make his blood freeze and beat a crazy rhythm in his chest and ears at the same time. It has nothing to do with that at all.

The little king makes annotations of his usual studies -which he still has to complete besides the whole new set of things being a king entrails- and feels heavy of body and mind as he scribbles on the cream colored paper.

The numbers swim before his eyes, he's always liked numbers, liked how mechanic and automatic it feels to solve whatever problem sits in front of him, even if he's not that good at it. It's soothing. It used to be soothing at least. He can barely concentrate now and it takes him double the effort to solve simple things he usually can do without concentrating a lot.

The blond stops writing. He stops and just stares at the paper and through the paper and beyond and at nothing at all.

Agnarr stops and does nothing.

When he comes back to himself the sun has set and Jørgen is walking into the study, asking if he's had a chance to look at the trade routes he needs to familiarize himself with. He hasn't actually.

"Do not worry I will get to them right away." He tells the man with firm resolve. Jørgen looks doubtfully at his annotations that are so very obviously from his studies, which he usually finishes by midday, but for some reason hasn't done so today. He says nothing and nods, Agnarr is a responsible young man after all, there's no reason to mistrust his words.

CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON

The next time he meets with Miss Iduna she's chatting enough for the both of them, she has too, if she doesn't want the air between them to be awkward because Agnarr won't say anything.

The redheaded girl talks, and talks, and talks until she can't find anything new to say and then she gets quiet.

"Have… I done something to displease you?" She asks a few minutes later, their time together is almost over, Agnarr should be going back in any time soon.

The question breaks him out a little from his lethargic state.

"No, of course not Miss." He doesn't ask, ' _Why would you think that?_ ' because he knows the answer to that question and he doesn't want to go there.

The silence grows again.

" _I am sorry._ " Agnarr whispers "I know I am not very good company most days," he swallows hard, his throat feels very dry "It must be terribly dull to keep my company as it is."

"I like your company." She whispers back, her eyes look a little glassy from where she sits, her hands twiddling on her lap.

He looks at her; his mint eyes usually pale seem dull, lifeless. Agnarr knows there's nothing wrong with himself, he knows this, but he still feels ill. Like there is something wrong with him, with his body, with his mind. Like something is constantly crushing him, poisoning him.

"That's kind of you to say." He answers and it's something he would usually say, something sweet and nice because he is just like that. But what he says now feels like a pleasantry more for the girl's sake than anything else.

"I should be going Miss Iduna." He stands and she stands as well, hurriedly and awkwardly; the soft pink dress she's so proud of sways in the wind.

"Of course." She looks unsure, she looks worried, she looks out of place and out of her depth and he wishes he could comfort her but he can't even comfort himself, he feels like crying again.

Instead he bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself, which works; it always works and he takes a step towards the girl. In a bold effort to ease her, Agnarr takes her hand softly, it's a little calloused which is very interesting to him, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. Gathering all of his fondness for her and all of the effort he can muster, he gifts her a wisp of a smile.

Iduna smiles back shakily and it's enough for now. They part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abril: Just in case anyone was wondering, half of this chapter already happened last chapter but these are some of the things we didn't see.
> 
> Brace yourselves, next chapter will probably be F-ed up so mind the tags.


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